


in which bruce wayne is a shitty millennial

by tricksterity



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode: s04e18 That's Entertainment, Fix-It, Gen, Millennial Humor, Vines, this is a total mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 20:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterity/pseuds/tricksterity
Summary: “I had my guys stake out the best vantage points last night,” Jerome said, like this was a game of one-upsies. “So they’ve been watching your little SWAT team all day.”Yeah, Bruce had a feeling that this wouldn’t all go so easy with Jerome Valeska in the mix.“Now Bruce, brother dear, come and get up on the stage! Let’s get this party really started, huh?”And so as they had no choice but to walk towards their deaths, all Bruce’s shit brain could think of wasah fuck I can’t believe you’ve done this.Basically, Gotham if vine existed and Bruce Wayne was a shitty millennial.





	in which bruce wayne is a shitty millennial

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what the fuck this is.

* * *

Bruce sighed as they pulled up at the very edge of the terrified crowd, huge speakers clearly broadcasting Jerome’s frankly terrible jokes.

“Are you serious?” he griped as he, Jim and Jeremiah got out of the car. “I’m going to die and the last thing I’m going to hear is how you can make water holy by boiling the hell out of it.”

“It’s pretty on brand,” Jeremiah admitted, straightening his coat.

“Jerome Valeska: murder and dad jokes,” replied Bruce. “I should’ve sent him a book of good jokes while he was in Arkham. This is all on me, now.”

Jim was staring at the two of them like they were complete fruitcakes – and honestly, considering that _Jerome Valeska_ was the only one of them who’d been in Arkham, it was a little offensive. Adults just didn’t understand millennial humour when they saw it.

They started making their way through the crowd, with Jim speaking into his walkie-talkie to make sure that his snipers were in position. Bruce was still a little hesitant that it would work, considering that Jerome wasn’t stupid enough to put himself into a kill box even though he seemed perfectly content up on the stage with an almost one-hundred-eighty degree line of fire.

And then Jim had to grab Bruce when he turned abruptly and tried to leave after Jerome said to the crowd _if a child refuses to sleep during nap time, are they guilty of resisting a rest?_

“No, Bruce, c’mon,” Jim sighed, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“I refuse to get killed by someone who thinks dad jokes are the height of humour!”

“You’re not going to get killed, Bruce.”

“True,” Bruce admitted, “this is Gotham. Nobody seems to stay dead since Hugo Strange.”

So they continued onward, Bruce and Jeremiah planning to approach the stage from two sides to divide Jerome’s attention. By the time he noticed the two of them, the crowd had already started parting for them like the Red Sea, and Jerome paused halfway through a joke about buying a book on anti-gravity.

Bruce already knew the punchline was _it’s impossible to put down!_

“Well… look who decided to show up!” Jerome drawled into the microphone. “We were starting to get nervous, especially the Mayor here.”

The Mayor looked like he was only a few minutes from passing out entirely – though whether that was due to stress or the terrible entertainment, Bruce wasn’t entirely sure. He was definitely leaning towards the latter.

“My guests of honor, please, take your seats on stage!” Jerome gestured with an expansive, swooping arm to the two free seats behind him. Free because the previous two inhabitants had their heads blown off. At least if the plan with the snipers didn’t work, Jeremiah and Bruce were saved from that particular fate.

Bruce looked to Jeremiah, who seemed to be holding back vomit with sheer willpower, and nodded. If they could keep Jerome’s attention on them for long enough, it would give the GCPD the time they needed to take him out. Which, before arriving Bruce hadn’t been all that keen on them killing someone who clearly needed help, but after hearing those jokes… Jerome deserved it.

The two of them started off into the crowd.

Bruce made sure that his stride was confident and sure, head held high as he played the part of Gotham’s proud golden child. He didn’t have to turn to know that Jeremiah was less sure, hunched in on himself as the crowd looked at his face and realised _holy shit there’s two of them_.

“Hi, brother,” Jerome grinned into the microphone, keeping his eyes on Jeremiah and nothing else.

Which, like, _fair_ – he was attractive. They both were. It was unfortunate that Jerome was absolutely batshit insane and also had his face cut off and reattached, because the suit he was wearing was actually quite nice and flattered his figure.

And then the whole area echoed with gunshots, which made the whole crowd duck in fear, and Bruce stared at Jerome’s very much still alive form.

Shit.

“I had my guys stake out the best vantage points _last night_,” Jerome said, like this was a game of one-upsies. “So they’ve been watching your little SWAT team all day.”

Yeah, Bruce had a feeling that this wouldn’t all go so easy with Jerome Valeska in the mix.

“Now Bruce, brother dear, come and get up on the stage! Let’s get this party really started, huh?”

And so as they had no choice but to walk towards their deaths, all Bruce’s shit brain could think of was _ah fuck I can’t believe you’ve done this_.

They were both totally silent as Jerome’s followers pulled them up onto stage, shoved them down into wooden chairs, and attached bomb collars to the both of them. An interesting and eccentric fashion choice to say the least – Bruce wasn’t really a fan. They were a bit bulky.

His head was pounding – oh yeah, he’d been interrupted at his weird little birthday party before he’d had the chance to eat his cake _or_ have his morning coffee. Caffeine withdrawal would explain the throbbing in his temples.

“Who do I have to kill to get a coffee?” he asked, not even realising he’d said it aloud until Jerome stopped abruptly in what he was saying to look over at Bruce. “Maybe that was in bad taste.”

“You want a coffee?” Jerome asked.

“I had to put up with your shitty dad jokes, the least you can do is get a coffee before you kill me,” Bruce replied. “Soy milk, two sugars?”

Jerome stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few moments.

“Someone get this man a coffee!” he then yelled. “You heard him, chop chop!”

A few of his followers jolted about confusedly like glitching video game characters until they spotted the nearby café and all but sprinted their way through the crowd to get to it. Did any of them even know how to use the machine?

Jerome leaned over in his chair to stare Bruce down over the microphone.

“You’re a weird kid, has anyone ever told you that?”

Bruce blinked at him. “I’m a millennial billionaire with dead parents and about ten near death experiences, only two of which – now three – can be attributed to you,” he replied. “What do you think?”

“You’re sitting in the chair of someone whose head I just blew off,” Jerome responded. “There’s literally brain matter on your Versace coat now.”

“Fucking mood,” was all Bruce’s shit brain could reply. Jeremiah snorted on Jerome’s other side.

“And what the fuck are you laughing at?” Jerome growled, spinning back around to his brother with an open switchblade in his palm.

“You’re disrespecting a future US army soldier,” Jeremiah blurted, and Bruce threw his head back and devolved into useless, cackling laughter. Oh Jesus, Jeremiah Valeska had spent the last decade living in a bunker and watching fucking vine compilations, this was too good.

Jerome froze and looked between the both of them.

“What the fuck is happening right now?”

“We all die you either kill yourself or get killed,” Bruce replied.

“What you gon’ do?” Jeremiah sang, tapping the arms of the chair as percussion. Jerome was frantically looking between the two of them, and Bruce wondered if somehow his crazy got transferred to them, because he couldn’t help but cackle at the confusion on his face. Millennial humor 1, Arkham humor 0.

Something was happening in the crowd, but Jerome didn’t pay attention, mostly because he had decided to slice the bonds on Jeremiah’s arms to punch him in the face. Jeremiah collapsed onto the stage gasping _I can’t believe you’ve done this_, which sent Bruce off even more, and Jerome started aiming kicks at his twin’s midsection.

Bruce used the distraction to start working his hands out of his own bonds, and had one arm free by the time more shots echoed throughout the area and Jim Gordon approached the stage with his gun aimed directly at Jerome. He fired, getting Jerome right in the shoulder, and he collapsed right down next to his brother.

Bridgit turned to fire her flamethrower at a rapidly approaching Jim, but Bruce wiggled himself free and all but tackled her to the ground. She bared her teeth in anger but he’d been training for long enough to loosen her grip enough for him to smack her in the face with her own weapon, and she passed out immediately.

There was a whooping cackle from behind him, and Bruce turned to see Jerome leap off the stage with a gloved hand over his wound. He ran off, Jim Gordon in hot pursuit.

Bruce hopped over a groaning Jeremiah to free the Mayor, who thankfully still had his head, and then turned back to the floored engineer.

“You alright?” he asked, helping Jeremiah sit up.

“Yeah,” he groaned, “wasn’t planning on confusing my brother with shitty internet humor to save the day, but finally something good came out of my bad habits. Maybe Ecco can get off my ass about spending too long watching vine compilations.”

Laughing, Bruce helped Jeremiah to his feet.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of amazing?” he asked, and Jeremiah looked at him with wide, shocked eyes; that was probably a no. “I’m going to help Jim. Are you going to be okay?”

“He went after Jerome,” replied Jeremiah. “I’m coming with you.”

And so the two of them took off in the direction that Jim and Jerome had gone, passing a confused goon holding a cup of coffee. Bruce hoped that the GCPD would be able to take care of the blimp that had randomly appeared overhead, scaring the shit out of everyone in the area. An open door with the handle covered in blood seemed to be a good sign, so Bruce and Jeremiah dashed through and up the stairs.

Evidently Bruce was fitter than an agoraphobic engineer, because within seconds he was already a full flight further ahead than Jeremiah. He only paused for a split second when he heard a shot ring out from the roof, and then doubled his speed.

He burst out onto the roof just in time to see Jerome topple over the edge.

“Shit!” he swore, running over next to Jim to see Jerome somehow dangling off a pipe five floors up. A fall from this height would definitely kill him – Bruce didn’t even know how he was holding onto the pipe with his shoulder wound and what looked like a bullethole in his other hand.

“Oh, hey Bruce,” Jerome drawled, blood trickling out of his mouth. “You here to just hang out?”

“I should leave you to die just for that,” he sighed. “That was awful.”

“Not as bad as whatever you and my brother were on,” Jerome retorted. “That was fucking weird.”

“They must not have Youtube in Arkham.”

“What the fuck’s a Youtube?” Jerome asked, making Bruce choke in shock. “No, I’m kidding, I’m not that bad.”

“If you let us help you up,” Bruce bargained, “I’ll personally bring you a laptop in Arkham and catch you up on all the vine compilations that you’ve missed out on. That’s what Jeremiah and I were quoting. You’ll love them.”

Jim turned to Bruce, clearly wondering why the fuck he was trying to bargain with Jerome for the madman’s life. In all honesty Bruce was just seeing how clearly Jerome’s upbringing fucked him up – Jeremiah was by no means the picture of perfect sanity, considering he literally lived in an underground maze bunker, but to Bruce it meant there was a chance. Of _helping_ Jerome, and not having everything end in murder again.

Jerome chewed on his lip, thinking the offer over.

“Okay, fine,” he sighed. He let Jim and Bruce take a hand each and haul him back over the edge of the building. Bruce wasn’t quite prepared for his weight and ended up stumbling, all but collapsing onto Jerome who was only held up by the railing.

“Well, Bruce, if you wanted to be on top of me so badly you only had to _say_ something!” Jerome cackled. Bruce rolled his eyes and pushed off him.

“If you think sex jokes are going to embarrass me, you’re going to have to try a lot harder,” Bruce replied. “My friends and I literally make vore jokes.”

“What’s vore?” Jim asked. Jerome and Bruce made awkward eye contact.

“I’m not telling him,” Bruce said.

“It means I want Brucie boy here to gobble me right up!” Jerome cackled, just as Jeremiah finally arrived on the roof, panting and red-faced from the exertion. “Brother!”

Jeremiah looked between Jim’s wildly confused expression, Jerome’s laughter and whatever the fuck expression was on Bruce’s face. He wasn’t entirely sure, other than really hoping Jerome was kidding.

“What’s going on?” Jeremiah asked.

  
“Your brother’s into vore,” Bruce sighed. “It’s gross. I’m kinkshaming him.”

“How does he know about vore but not about vine?”

“He lives in Arkham, there’s probably a few cannibals in there.”

Jerome chose that moment to throw up a bit of blood and collapse to his knees. Bruce finally noticed the bleeding coming from his stomach and realised that he had _three whole bullet wounds_ inside him and still manage to carry off an entire conversation like it was nothing.

“Alright, let’s get you to a hospital, I’m sure you know your Miranda rights by now,” Jim said, pulling out his handcuffs. He cuffed Jerome, but with his hands around his front so that he could put pressure on his own wound, before pretty much dragging him back over to the door, radioing for an ambulance.

It was then that Bruce had an epiphany.

“Oh my god, the snakes!” he shouted. Jim, Jerome _and_ Jeremiah all paused to look at him in confusion.

“What?”

“The reason that Jerome’s into vore!” Bruce replied. “Pet snakes at the circus!”

Jeremiah blinked, then turned around to his brother.

“This is why mom never _fucking loved you!_”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> a jerome joke that bruce didn't get to hear:
> 
> why don't ants get sick?
> 
> because they have.... _anty bodies_


End file.
